Rusted Root
by AutumnDynasty
Summary: Neither of them feels inclined to retreat. For now. RanmaRyoga mild slash.


It's been a while...So here's a fic I wrote a while back. Sort of dedicated (but mostly blamed on) bRobinRocks/b, who dared me to write slash again. So I tried. I really did.

Done as an LJ music meme - place songs on shuffle and then write for the duration of the song that comes on. No big edits. Has been beta-read, however.

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**Rusted Root**

_Retreat, Retreat – 65 Days of Static_

They're too worn out to move, so when all the fists stop flying and the all the kicks have been flung, they lie on their backs and stare at the sky. The last of the spectators have gone and for all intents and purposes, they're at peace. No girls to fight over and no history. For now.  
It's a respite, not a retreat. Then tension isn't there as they lie side by side, arms length apart.

Ryoga stretches his arms to the sky with a weary grown before letting them flop on the ground, splayed out like a star. Ranma rolls his head to the side to glance at his friend and his enemy and everything in between. He reaches out his own arm and lets his hand fall over Ryoga's outstretched palm.

And neither of them feels inclined to retreat. For now.

_Skool Daze – American McGee's Alice_

The boy with long hair always sat under the willow tree in the playground after school. The boy who stole his lunch. Most of the time, he hated the bastard.

Other days Ryoga had been okay with it – it was a competition. A game. A desperate one for food, yes, but Ryoga loves to compete and Ranma was good enough to be worthy some respect.

And yet, there had been a feeling that it would be nice to be Ranma's friend. Ryoga doesn't have many. He can never find them.

Looking back, he regrets finding neither the tree nor the fight on time. The following misunderstandings could have been avoided. He realises now the difference between hatred and a habit.

_Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous – Good Charlotte_

It's after the fifth argument of the day that Ranma begins to wonder if girls are really worth the hassle. They're ungrateful, distrustful and quick to anger. They're jealous and touchy about the most random things.

Honestly, men are much simpler to deal with.

Ranma isn't used to having friends, but he remembers Ucchan and he likes to think that Ryoga could be one too, if they could get past their problems.

Ryoga wouldn't worry about such baffling things as dates. If he got upset, they'd have a fight and that would be it; argument settled until the next one began. He'd never have to compliment Ryoga's appearance or skills unless he truly meant it (which, thinking about it, wouldn't be hard).

The more he thinks about it, the more attractive the idea becomes.

_Faster the Chase - InMe_

Ranma's leg buckles and he tumbles backwards to hit the floor heavily, Ryoga landing on him with a fist clenching Ranma's shirt. Ryoga uses a hand to push himself up, still gripping the red shirt. He smirks.

"You're losing it Ranma," he sneers. His nose drips blood to his lips and he resists the urge to brush it away.

A bruised hand reaches up to grab Ryoga's yellow shirt. "So you got me?" Ranma asks, suspiciously calm. Ryoga scowls, startled eyes wide as Ranma pulls him down until their noses barely touch. There's a blue-purple bruise forming on the side of one eye and blood is spattered and seeping down Ranma's cheek.

His brain stops. Ranma's breath is warm and heavy on his face; "Anything goes." And suddenly there's only blood and dark eyes and a hand in his hair, closing the distance. Ranma is hard and harsh; inexperienced but confidently arrogant.

He tastes copper.

_December – Regina Spektor_

At the end of the day, Ranma is one of the few things he can actually find with any sort of consistency. He hasn't been to his house in four months, but that's okay. There wouldn't be anyone there anyway. He runs into Ranma at least once a month, if not weekly.

Some animals always know where home is, no matter how far they roam. Ryoga gets very lost sometimes, but he always manages to find his way back.

It's a case of home being who, not where.


End file.
